


And If Life Will Get Me Down

by Vee_is_typing



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Appendicitis, Ed refusing to accept help, Edward Elric Swears, Fever, Gen, Gratuitous Swearing, Hospitals, Hurt Edward Elric, Hurt/Comfort, I gave Ed appendicitis just so everyone can taLK ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS DAMMIT, Infection, Parental Roy Mustang, Sickfic, Vomiting, despite the fact everyone cares about him, like a lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27780139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vee_is_typing/pseuds/Vee_is_typing
Summary: “Brother?” Al prompted when Ed failed to answer. He walked over and carefully turned him over to reveal pasty white skin, a sweaty brow, and scrunched-shut eyes. “Brother?!”“What’s wrong with him?” Mustang asked, standing up and walking over. “Fullmetal?”“Fucking. Hurts like a bitch.” Ed ground out through clenched teeth. “Feels like my stomachs going to explode.”------It starts with what everyone thinks is a simple stomach ache.Then it gets worse.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang
Comments: 24
Kudos: 187





	And If Life Will Get Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Listened to Mitski, went feral, shaved off half my eyebrow, and wrote this. Bon Apetit. 
> 
> Title from the Tracy Beaker opening theme (God I wish I was joking)
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Swearing, descriptions of severe stomach pain, descriptions of vomit, descriptions of illness
> 
> I am not a medical professional and have taken some creative liberties, please don't take this as an accurate portrayal of appendicitis. That being said, if you do think you have appendictis please see a Doctor. 
> 
> Enjoy <3

It all starts with a sudden pain in his stomach.

Subconsciously Ed’s hand flew towards it, placing a hand on his abdomen as if to see if anything was out of place.

“Are you okay Brother?” Al asked, looking over curiously. The train ride to East City was long and familiar, so, having had the view outside practically memorized, Al had taken to people watching again (although the train carriage was empty right now, so it was more Ed-watching than people watching.)

“Yeah, just a cramp I think. Probably ate too much at the station, there was no way that kiosk was serving real food.”

Al shuddered, and would have grimaced if he could, as he remembered the greasy pasties Ed had shovelled into his mouth by the dozen. “Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t have to eat those. I’m pretty sure even you could cook something better than whatever they were.”

“Hey!” Ed yelled, playfully clonking Al on his helmet. “I’m an excellent cook! You should treat your older brother with respect!”

“Brother!” He yelped, ruefully fixing his helmet straight again. “Maybe I’d treat you with respect if you weren’t such a child!”

“A child?!” Ed roared back, “Are you saying I’m short-?!” He was cut off suddenly as another sharp pain shot through his stomach. He huffed in surprise.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Al leaned forwards, any anger dropped.

“Yeah, I probably just need to sleep it off.” Ed waved away Al, slumping back onto his seat. “I think we’re nearly here now anyway - God I can’t wait to give that bastard hell.”

“He means well.” Al said gently.

“Still a fucker. Honestly, we have far better things to do than traipse off to some town out in the sticks just to check out how some old alchemist pal of his is doing.”

“To be fair, Colonel Mustang probably didn’t know he was quite so…”

“Senile? The old man called me Fred. The entire time. Mustang knew what he was doing.” Ed winced as another sharp twinge ripped through his stomach. It felt like it was getting worse.”Fuck’s sake, that station food really did a number on me.”

“We’ll get you some peppermint tea once we arrive, I’m sure there will be a tea hut in town.”

“To hell with that, tea’s for little kids.” Ed scowled, and he fixed Al with a glare.“I’ll get some coffee.” 

Al threw his hands up in the air in exasperation, fed up with his brother’s childishness. “Fine then! You do whatever you want, I won’t make any more suggestions.”

Ed would have said something to placate Al, but instead was hit with yet another sharp pain, this time accompanied by a strong wave of nausea. “Eurgh, this train ride can’t be over soon enough. I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

“Don’t worry,” Al said, (gently) knocking an affectionate fist against Ed’s shoulder. “Who knows, it might just be travel sickness. I’m sure you’ll feel better once you’re off the train.”

\---------

Ed did not feel better.

The sharp twinges had faded into a constant, painful throb that seemed to have moved down to the lower-right side of his stomach. Accompanied by it was a steady feeling of nausea. Ed felt like he was on some kind of messed up nightmare ship from hell, sailing on the rockiest seas known to man. He was damn near sweating from the pain of it all.

“If you’re feeling really ill, maybe the Colonel will let you do your report another time-” Al said, trying to keep up with Eds brisk staggers. He was barely able to keep a straight line, but he was walking.

  
“To hell with that, he’d just make fun of me.” Ed snapped. The pain had pissed him off. “Aww, can Fullmetal not do a basic report ‘cause of a wickle stomach ache?” He put on a bad impersonation of Mustang’s voice.

“Brother!” Al hissed. “You’re in the heart of Eastern HQ, can you please show at least some respect towards the Colonel, you don’t want to get court-martialled  _ again _ .”

“Hey, not my fault that apparently everyone eavesdrops on our conversations,” Ed yelled. To make a point he fixed a white-hot glare on a random Private that was walking by, who squeaked and quickened his pace. “Besides, knowing our luck the Fuhrer will bail us out again, that guy loves me.”

Al just gave a defeated sigh, used to his brother’s complete lack of respect of anyone with a military rank. Or anyone at all really. They arrived at the Team Mustang’s office, and Al watched curiously as his brother, rather than kick the door open as he usually did, carefully pushed it open instead. His stomach must really be bothering him.

“Hey y’all,” Ed said, dragging out his Resembool accent.

“Hey, Chief.” Havoc said, looking up from his newspaper. “How was Rade?” 

“Shit. I counted about 3 houses in the whole village, if you can even call it that.” Ed sounded, to the trained ear, just a tiny bit strained. Like he was putting too much effort into trying to make his voice remain steady.

  
“Edward, if you could please not swear so much in the office.” Lieutenant Hawkeye said sternly. She gave a slight smile to Al. “Hello Alphonse, I trust your journey went well?”   
  


“It was okay, thank you Lieutenant, however Ed-”

“-Is going to speak to the Colonel now,” Ed said, ignoring his brother when he shot him a Look. “Come on Al.”

“Bye Ed, Al.” Falman called. Ed threw back a wave, pretending he didn’t feel Hawkeyes stare drilling into him.

“Hey-a Colonel,” Ed said, slapping creased folder down onto the desk. Roy Mustang sighed, and put down his pen.

“Looks like my day’s got ten times worse.” He nodded his head at Alphonse. “How are you, Alphonse?”

“Fine, thank you sir,” Al said. He would have tried to bring up Ed feeling sick again, but Ed was making his best effort to step on Al’s foot- a wasted effort considering Al couldn’t feel anything. The Colonel nodded, no less aware of what was going on below his eye line.

“Guess it was quite a  _ short _ trip for you, eh Fullmetal?” The Colonel said, smirking at Ed. 

“Fuck off Colonel.” Ed grumbled, with none of his usual passion. “Can we hurry up and get this over with?” He proceeded to stomp over and collapse onto one of the sofas Roy kept in his office. Roy awkwardly cleared his throat, obviously a bit put out by Ed’s lack of a reaction.

“Uh, yeah. Rade.” Ed let out a huff of breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “Boring. Lots of Cows. Umm, that’s about it. 

“Oh come on Fullmetal, get a grip.” Mustang sighed. “How was Bertrand?”

“Old.” Ed grimaced, then flumped over onto his side, looking very much like he was about to fall asleep. Or pass out. One of the two.

  
Roy raised an eyebrow and looked over at Alphonse. “And?”

“Well- I, Mr Schwaller was maybe not as quite as good as a lead as you may have thought he was. Sir.” Al stumbled out. His cheeks, if he still had a face, would have turned bright red.“When we talked with him, he seemed a bit… out of touch?”

“So you’re saying he’s finally lost it?” Roy asks bluntly.

“Well, one could say that.” Al squeaked.

Roy hummed in response, mentally re-arranging chess pieces in his mind. He folded his hands under his chin, and squinted his eyes with deep thought. A moment passed before a thought seemed to come to him, and his concentration broke. He glanced over at Ed, who was now fully curled up into a ball, swearing quietly. “You okay Fullmetal?”

“Brother?” Al prompted when Ed failed to answer. He walked over and carefully turned him over to reveal pasty white skin, a sweaty brow, and scrunched-shut eyes. “Brother?!”

“What’s wrong with him?” Mustang asked, standing up and walking over. “Fullmetal?”

  
“Fucking. Hurts like a bitch.” Ed ground out through clenched teeth. “Feels like my stomachs going to explode.”

  
“What’s going on?” Roy asked looking over at Al in concern.

“I don’t know! He was fine when we left Rade but halfway through the train journey he started getting stomach pains and nausea.” 

“It’s fine. Shit food.” Ed waved his good arm around, trying to bat off Al. “Nothing to worry about.”

“We can do this another time, Fullmetal, it may be best if you go and sleep this off.” Mustang said. Ed might be going crazy but there was almost a drop of sympathy in his voice.

“Yeah right bastard, I can do this.” Ed hauled himself into a sitting position, wincing slightly. “Already feel better. Just having a nap.”

“Brother, honestly.” Al fretted.

“I’ve had food poisoning before Fullmetal, it’s not something you can power through, best if you just go home and we do this tomorrow,” Mustang said. He was frowning down at Ed, and Ed scowled in response.

God, that condescending _ Bastard. _ Ed was already pissed off about upsetting Al, who had been anxiously mother henning him since they got off the train, and now he was appearing weak in front of the Colonel, who seemed to be enjoying putting on an act of caring. The last thing he wanted to do was for the rest of Team Mustang to seem him be sent home like a sick child from school. He’s 15, he can absolutely handle this. 

“I can handle this.” He said, before the most painful pulse yet shot through his stomach and he collapsed face-first back onto the sofa.

“Fullmetal there’s no point in heroics. Go home and come back when you’re better, that’s an order.” Mustang said, before walking over to his desk and picking his pen back up. “The report can be delayed for a day, no one will notice.”

“If no one will notice then why the hell do you always make us report back right after we get off the train?” Ed grumbled as he pushed himself back into a sitting position, letting the back of the sofa keep him upright. 

  
“To check you’re actually taking care of yourself,” Mustang said without looking up. 

“I can take care of myself.” Ed shot back.

“Says the kid who got food poisoning from eating out-of-date station pies.” The Colonel taunted.

“Hey! I’m not a kid you bastard!”

“He has a point brother,” Al said. “Anyway, we should go to the dorms now. You’re looking very pale.”

There was a pause,

“...No.” Ed said quietly.

“No?” 

“No.” 

“Can you both stop saying no and get out of my office please,” Mustang said. “I know they all look very tall to a shorty like you, Ed, but I promise my team aren’t as scary as they seem.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING-urkgh.” Ed was interrupted as hunched over to try and fight off a particularly nasty wave of nausea. 

“Brother stop being difficult.” Al scolded. “Being a headstrong idiot won’t get you anywhere.”

“Really, Fullmetal, this is getting quite tiring. What could possibly be the issue that you are fighting to  _ continue  _ giving me a report?” Mustang said.

“It’s just-” He sighed. He knew he looked a sorry state, hunched over, pale, and slightly sweating. “I don’t… I don’t want anyone to see me like this.” Ed said softly, not looking them in the eyes.

Mustang seemed to soften at that, and he walked back over again. “No one will laugh at you, Elric.”

“Shut up Mustang. It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?” Al asked.

“It’s because…” Ed started.

  
He knew why. He knew exactly why. He had felt the reason in his stomach from the first time he picked up that damned silver watch- scratch that, since the first time his family grew from 4 to 3 and from 3 to 2. This desperate need to not be seen, this need to hide away. He couldn’t face anyone when he looked like anyone other than the Fullmetal Alchemist, hero of the people, defender of the weak. He couldn’t look like Edward Elric. He had a reputation to uphold.

But just because he knew that, didn’t mean the others had to.

  
“It’s because I’m worried I’d vomit on Havoc’s shoes.” He said and gave a weak laugh. “He got new ones last week, he’d be devastated if they were ruined.” Mustang leant back from Ed, giving a disapproving look. Ed prayed he’d take the poor excuse and leave. 

“Fine then. Lunch is in about..” Mustang checked his state alchemist watch. “5 minutes so you should be able to sneak out while everyone’s leaving for the mess hall. Does that satisfy your need to not have anyone see you with a stomach ache?”

Ed relaxed, giving a slight sigh of relief. “Yeah, that’ll work.” He looked Mustang in the eye. “Thank you.”

The Colonel gave a slight “hmm” in response before fixing a look at Alphonse. “You are to call me if he gets any worse, understood.”

“Yes sir.” Alphonse nodded.

“I don’t care about the time. Call me on my home phone if you have to.” 

“O-okay.” 

“I find apple cider vinegar usually helps when I have food poisoning.” He said, pulling on his coat and grabbing his wallet. He hands a small scrap of paper with his phone number written on it to Alphonse. “Make sure he stays hydrated, he’ll probably start vomiting at on point.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Al said.

“Don’t mention it.” He gave a slight smile before leaving the internal office, letting the door click shut. The muffled sound of him chatting to the team could be heard through the walls.

“I hate that bastard,” Ed said feebly. He had been quietly sitting on the sofa, and Al had honestly thought he had fallen asleep from how still he had been.

“He means well, you need to let him help sometimes.”

“No offence Al, but I would rather die.”

“That’s nice considering that’s exactly what  _ will _ happen if you keep refusing help.” He gave out a metallic sigh and sat down next to Ed. “Please Brother. You’re sick. Let us help you.”

Ed didn’t respond to that, just moaned and curled up into a ball. “Fuck, Al, I had no idea food poisoning hurt this much. This is the last time I get food from a kiosk. No sir, restaurants and cafes only for me from now on.”

“We’ll so how long that lasts.”

“Hah.” A weak laugh.

“It’s kind of the Colonel to give us permission to contact him out of office hours,” Al said, trying to keep Ed awake. Lunch was only a few minutes away, they’d have to get moving soon.

“Yeah, about that.” Ed turned and made eye contact with Al, who was surprised by the slight glaze of illness that had taken hold of them. “Al, you musn’t contact him. I don’t care if I’m lying dead on the floor, you can’t call him.”

“Why?” 

“I don’t want to waste his time over a stomach bug, he has more important stuff to do.”

Al just shook his head, before walking over and sticking his helmet against the office door. He listened for a second. “It sounds like everybody’s gone, are you ready to go now?”

“Sure.” Ed went to stand up before a wave of dizziness made him sit back down again. “Ah, I may need your help, Al.”

“What’s wrong?” Al was at his side in a moment.

“Do you have any water on you? I feel dizzy.”

Al walked over to the open bureau at the side of the office and poured a cup of water from a full jug. He handed it to Ed, who drank it thirstily.

“Cheers Al, I think I can do it now.” He shakily stood up and started to walk towards the door, hissing with pain every couple of seconds. “Let’s go.”

\-----

The walk back to the dorms was a long one, with Ed having to stop every few minutes as a wave of nausea or a stab of pain would overtake him. The pain was firmly localised in his lower-right abdomen and was starting to become near-constant. His stomach felt bloated and the world was swaying about him from the sickness. He cycled between hot and cold constantly as he hissed and groaned through the pain. Arriving at their room in the military dorms, where he could finally collapse onto the shitty cheap mattress was a massive relief.

“Remind me to thank the god of beds tonight,” Ed said, face buried into a pillow.

“You don’t believe in God,” Al responded, turning to the sparse kitchen area that was in the corner of the bedroom. Let no one say the military didn’t go all out when it came to crap interior design. “Do you want anything to eat?”

  
“No. I can’t imagine eating anything right now” Ed said.

“Okay, I’ll try make that vinegar thing the Colonel suggested,” Al said. He started to search the cupboards, when Ed let out a sharp yelp.

  
“Ow! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He hissed, hunching up into himself.

“What’s wrong?”

“It just-” A gloved hand grabbed onto the bedsheets, screwing part of it into a ball. “It  _ hurts _ Al.” 

“Okay,” Al said, heart sinking. He felt very out of his depth here. “How about you try and get some sleep?” He unfolded the duvet from the end of the bed and draped it over his brother. “I’m sure we still have some of those painkillers that Winry gave us last time she was here, would that be okay?”

  
Ed gave a dejected “uh-huh” noise and curled up underneath the covers. Al presented him with two white pills and he greedily swallowed them down with water, before gagging as the world tilted for a moment. He looked very pale. “Will you be okay if I sleep? I can barely keep my eyes open.” He croaked out.

“I’ll be fine, you just rest. I’ll read one of those books we got from Mr Schwaller.” Al tilted his head to try and represent a smile before he went and settled himself into the ratty armchair he had placed by the window last time they were at the dorms. As an afterthought, he propped open the window. His brother would appreciate the fresh air. “Goodnight brother.”

“Night Al,” Ed said, now just a lump underneath the covers. 

Al pulled out one of the numerous leather-bound books he kept in his suitcase and started to read, trying his best to ignore the regular whimpers of pain coming from his brother. This food poisoning better be over soon. He hates seeing his brother in pain.

\----

Once Al had finished the book, he looked up and realised the room had grown dark. A glance outside the window revealed empty streets and glowing streetlights. How long had he been reading? 

He got up and walked over to Ed. “Brother?” He said softly, peeling back the duvet.

Ed was pale and shivering, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. The sheets were wrinkled and looked like they’d be damp to the touch. His chest was moving with short, quick breaths, and despite being in the throes of sleep, his arms were clenched tightly around his stomach.

“Brother!” Al yelped, panicking. He grabbed Ed and shook him. Ed blinked lazy up at him, eyes fully glazed.

“Hello?” He said, voice so thick with sleep and confusion that the word was barely understandable. “Al? Whassamatter?”

“Brother, can you hear me?” Al said. He doesn’t remember the Colonel saying anything about… whatever this is... when talking about food poisoning.

“‘Course I can. You’re speakin’ loud.” Ed shakily went to raise his hands to block his ears, but paused and looked around, frowning. “Why’s it so hot??”

“What?”

“‘It’s hot. Can’t breathe.”

“Don’t worry brother, I’ll open a window,” Al said, but then froze as he saw the window was already wide open, curtains blowing slightly in the breeze. It was the middle of November, he knew how cold Eastern nights got. People could  _ die  _ from prolonged exposure to this kind of cold. Ed should be freezing right now. Not boiling hot.

“Al, please, open the window it’s too hot.”

A sinking feeling started to develop in Al’s stomach. He ran into the bathroom, trying his best to keep calm as he threw open cupboards and drawers. “Thermometer, thermometer.” He mumbled to himself as he frantically rummaged through the random assortment of papers, rubbish, and empty packets of dental floss. No thermometer. 

“Oh,” Al whined softly. He felt like he could cry. He tensed as he heard a loud noise from the other room as Ed suddenly rolled off the bed and staggered into the bathroom, his automail leg loudly clanking against the floor.

“Al-!” Ed yelled.“I think I’m gonna…” 

He fell onto his knees by the toilet; then proceeded to miss and vomit on the bit of floor next to it. “Shit….” He whined.

Al kneeled next to him, rubbing a soothing arm on Ed’s back. “It’s okay Brother.”

“Al,” Ed pressed a forehead against the cool armour of Alphonse’s armour. “Al I feel sick.”

Sick was an understatement. Ed was quickly flipping between hot and cold, his sweat cooling his body one second, and then freezing him the next. The world swayed and tilted in his vision, and the pain in his abdomen was like fire, ripping him apart. While the vomiting had woken him up slightly, he still felt a thick fog on his mind that every thought had to fight through. His joints ached and he felt incredibly heavy. His tongue was dry and his throat was sore from just the little bit of talking he had done. He felt like shit, to put it politely. 

“Brother… do you think I should maybe call the Colonel?”

“No-!” Ed weakly knocked his flesh arm against Al’s chest “Please Al, don’t! I don’t want to-“ he tensed before turning and vomited, this time in the toilet luckily.

“What am I meant to do?” Al despaired. His metal hands shook as he held Ed’s hair out his face. “Why don’t you want help? I don’t understand.”

  
Ed understood. Ed understood exactly why he didn’t want the Colonel, or anyone really, to see him in this sorry state. Ed had understood since that first fateful night in the Elric family’s basement. 

He didn’t want help because he wanted to look strong. Because he didn't want to scare his brother. It was because he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Because he didn’t want to remind anyone of how young he really was. Because he didn’t want them to only see the boy in the wheelchair, missing 2 limbs and a brother. It was because he didn’t want to look weak.

“Al, please,” Ed mumbled again. He leant back into Al’s arms, and Al embraced him. 

“You’re sick brother.”

“S’just food poisoning, tha’s all.”

“But what if it isn’t Ed? What if you’re properly sick, what if you’ve infected a wound we don’t know about.” His heart stopped as he remembered his mother, sprawled out across the kitchen floor. “What if you’re  _ dying,  _ brother?!”

“No... no, it’s okay..” Ed said. He was feeling very drowsy now, the world swaying around him and lulling him into sleep. “‘M alright Al, just need to sleep it off. Stomach ache.”

“No don’t fall asleep!” Al yelped, but Ed was already gone. Al pressed his hands against Ed’s forehead, feeling a half-sob-half-chuckle get stuck in his throat. His hands, cold metal that they were, couldn’t feel anything. Ed could be burning up and he had no way of knowing. Ed needed help.  _ Al _ needed help. He couldn’t do this alone.

“I’m sorry brother.” He said, picking up Ed and carefully laying him on the bed, before slipping out into the hall to reach the communal phone. He unfolded the scrunched up piece of paper the Colonel had given him, phone number written in clear blue ink. Al didn’t know what time it was, would the Colonel even pick up?

He punched the numbers into the phone, listening to the clicks of the dials rotating. In the odd artificial light of the hallway, the phone seemed to have grown a staring face, looking right at him. He had to redial twice because his hands were shaking so much. Al looked at the pieces of graffiti carved onto the wall, trying to stimulate taking calming breaths as the phone rang on and on...

“Please pick up….” Al pleaded to himself. 

Ring-Ring

Ring-Ring

Ring-Rin-

“Hello?” A groggy voice came through. “Who is it?”

“Colonel?” Al whispered. 

“Alphonse! What’s wrong?” Mustang suddenly sounded a lot more alert. 

“It’s Ed, he- I didn’t realise anything was wrong, he went to sleep and now his eyes are all funny and he’s saying its hot but its not because the window is open and my hands can’t feel if he’s hot and he keeps on vomiting but I don’t think it’s food poisoning anymore and he’s in so much pain and it’s all my fault!” He blurted. He was shaking enough that his armour was making a noticeable rattling noise. 

“Calm down Al, speak slower.” Mustang said, “What’s wrong with Ed?”

“I think he might have a fever. I don’t know.” Al choked down a sob. “I can’t feel his forehead.”

“You said he’s vomiting?”

“Y-yes. He woke up, and his eyes were all glazed over and speech was slurred, and he just threw up twice a couple minutes ago.”

“You’re sure it’s not some stomach bug?” 

“No! He’s ill Colonel, I haven’t seen brother in this much pain since… what I mean is it’s rare for him to express hurt this openly. Something must be really wrong.”

“Do you think he has an injury somewhere he didn’t tell us about?”

“I thought that at first, but we haven’t gotten in any serious fights at all in the last 2 weeks or so. I was wondering if something was wrong with his automail but…”

“...but the pain is in his stomach.” Mustang finished the thought. “Do you want me to come around Alphonse?”

“Please,” Al said. Brother would just have to be mad at him; this was serious. 

“Okay, I’ll be over in 10 or so minutes, Are you still at your military dorm?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll see you there then.”

_ Click. _

Al put the phone back on the receiver and leant back against the wall. He put his head in his hands and sighed- he didn’t need to but the sentiment felt nice. 

He’s seen brother ill before. He’s seen brother injured before. But he’s rarely seen his brother in so much visible pain before-especially not even without even trying to  _ hide  _ it from Al. He’s made the right call. 

He just hopes the Colonel arrives soon. 

———

  
Ed had thankfully woken up by the time the Colonel arrived. This was the worst he had felt yet, and he didn’t dare do anything other than breath shallowly in hopes not to jostle his stomach. 

At the cue of 3 sharp knocks against the door, Al got up and let the Colonel in. He stood confidently in the hallway, immediately making eye contact with Al. He didn’t smile, however. He looked deathly serious.

“How is he?”

Mustang looked impeccable, hair patted down and wearing a crisp button-down shirt and slacks. The only giveaway at all that he had rushed from his apartment to the dorms was his socks- they were odd. One black, another dark navy blue. Al supposed, if the military was your full-time job you wouldn’t be in the mood for much colour in your wardrobe.

“I don’t know. He’s woken up again but he’s not very talkative, and he still seems to be in a lot of pain.” Al fretted.

“May I come in?” Mustang said. Al nodded and gestured over to where Ed was lying. The Colonel walked over to the bed, nose wrinkling at the strong smell of sick that Al realised would be pervading itself through the flat. He suddenly became aware of the state the flat had become, with blankets strewn across the floor, drawers and cupboards torn open and a puddle of vomit in and around the toilet.

“I’m sorry for the mess.” 

“Huh? Don’t worry about it.” Mustang hadn’t even noticed, he was only looking at Ed.

And what a sight Ed was to look at; he looked like death; pale, clammy, and panting shallowly. His eyes were open, but half glazed and were staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t noticed the Colonel. His hands, whether he realised or not, were clutched at his side. The Colonel frowned as he saw that he was gripping his lower abdomen,  _ not _ his stomach like food poisoning would warrant. 

Al watched as the Colonel touched a soft hand to Ed’s shoulder, then started as he realised that the Colonel was wearing his gloves. Like he was expecting to fight off some kind of danger. Al clicked the door shut and went over to Ed, hovering over the Colonel’s shoulder. “Does he have a fever?” He asked.

The Colonel ripped off one of his gloves and brushed Ed’s fringe out his face, before pressing a cool hand to Ed’s forehead. Ed frowned and tried to absent-mindedly swat away the coldness on his skin.   
  


Roy felt every drop of blood drain from his body as he looked at Al. “He’s burning hot.”

  
It was at this moment Ed’s eyes snapped open fully, revealing to the world the true extent of his dull eyes, rolling around in their sockets. “Bastard?” He choked out.

  
Mustangs hand flew away from Ed’s forehead like he had touched hot fire (which wasn’t too far off from reality in all honesty) and cleared his throat. His voice lost whatever panic that may have started to leak through.

“Fullmetal.” He said. “How are you feeling?”

  
“Fine.” Ed coughed “Why are you here?”

“You have a fever Brother,” Al said. “I’m sorry, I had to call the Colonel.”

“What?!” Ed said, trying to sit up but regretting it. He looked over at Mustang again as if only just now properly realising he was in the brother’s flat. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry!” Al said. He sounded near tears. “I didn’t know what to do!”

“He was right to call me, Fullmetal,” Mustang said. “I think you may need to go to hospital.”

“No. No fucking hospitals.” Ed banged his head back onto the pillow. 

“You can deny it all you want, but you can’t even sit up.”

“I can, bastard,” Ed said. He slowly eased himself up, eyebrows drawn together as he panted through grit teeth. “See?”

“My car’s outside, I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

“Fuck off!” Ed roared. “I don’t need hospitals and I don’t need your shitty fucking help!”

“Ed can you please do what the Colonel says for once in your life!” Al cried. 

“It’s fine! The pain has lessened now anyway.” Ed was actually telling the truth. Maybe it was the distraction of the Colonel’s unwanted arrival, or the extra few minutes of sleep, but the pain seemed to have weakened. He carefully pushed his legs over to the side of the bed and stood up. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not! You were vomiting only half an hour ago!” 

“It still won’t hurt to get checked out Fullmetal.”

Ed hobbled to the other side of the room. If he controlled his breathing just right, it almost felt like there was no pain at all. 

“I’m fine.” Ed said. “Can you guys leave me alone now?” He looked around at the mess of the room, and the door of the bathroom where he knew a puddle of vomit lay. His cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. God, he bet he looked a state.

The Colonel started to move towards Ed. “Fullmetal-“ 

“I’m sorry are you deaf bastard? I asked you to leave me the fuck alone.”

“And I’m trying to help you!” 

“I don’t need your help asshole!”

Mustang stepped back, looking almost… hurt? His eyes hardened. “You little brat, can you not accept that others want to-“

“Stop it! Both of you!” Al put his arms out, as if trying to push the two of them away from each other. “Fighting won’t help anyone!”

Ed laughed. “I’m sorry Al, but-“

Suddenly, the pain came back, in a viciousness Ed had never felt before. Like a tidal wave of lava rushing back into shore, burning and searing with a fiery vengeance. It felt like each of his organs were exploding one by one. It was pure agony. Ed buckled over and cried out. 

“Fullmetal?”

“Brother?”

“I-“ His ears were ringing, his limbs were numb, and the floor seemed to be approaching his face very quickly. He took a step towards his brother. 

Al watched in horror as Ed turned pale as a sheet, gave a slight gasp, and collapsed onto the carpet. He lied there, face down and completely unmoving. 

“B-brother?”

**Author's Note:**

> Does anyone remember that episode of Tracy Beaker where she got appendicitis? No? Just me? Well that was the inspiration for this because that episode lived rent free in my mind as a kid. I swear my writing is usually more polished and in american-english but I was having too much fun writing the way my brain works, and it's my indulgence fic so i get to pick the music >:) comments and kudos very much appreciated!!
> 
> Come hang out with me on my [ tumblr ](https://levhach.tumblr.com/) !


End file.
